


But I’m Here in Your Doorway

by choiyoonas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Cas and Dean are in love, Destiel - Freeform, He/They Sam Winchester, M/M, Queer Castiel, Saileen - Freeform, So are Sam and Eileen, love that for them, mentioned Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choiyoonas/pseuds/choiyoonas
Summary: dean never meant for his silly little tweet to mean anything. it’s 1 am, he’s tired, he’s lonely.  posting about accepting boyfriend applications would sound like a stupid idea to sober dean. but dean’s not sober. the whiskey he drank to chase the sorrow left over from being dumped by lisa made sure of it. he doesn’t expect any kind of response, but he gets one. from his gay best friend. the best friend he’s been more or less in love with for... practically forever.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (mentioned), Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester (past)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85





	But I’m Here in Your Doorway

**Author's Note:**

> title from taylor swift’s this is me trying. this is inspired by a post from tumblr. i started writing this as a joke, but here i am, over 2k words later. enjoy, hellers and finale denialists! leave nice things in the comments or bother me on tumblr (@90sgranger).

Dean's room-well, the nightstand and dresser-stood bathed in moonlight and littered in bottles, mostly empty of the various flavors of alcohol they once held. The clock on the nightstand reads 1:30 in neon green light. Dean, meanwhile, lay on his bed, face lit by the phone screen in his hand. The room, what he can see of it in the dark, spins where he looks with his gaze changed by the whiskey. It's been a rough two months since Lisa dumped him, and a rougher two weeks since she finally moved all of her stuff out of Dean's apartment. Sam said it might take him awhile, but he's sure his big brother will be okay soon. _So much for that,_ Dean thought. _My liver's never gotten such a workout._

Dean pushed the Lisa-related thoughts out of his mind, aimlessly scrolling through his Twitter timeline. He was still pretty new to the concept of social media. Having not grown up with it, neither Winchester brother had been much for social media. Until Sam met Eileen, that is. She was one of the reasons Sam even had an Instagram account; he mainly posted half-gross, half-cute photos or videos of himself and Eileen, or their dog. Dean's happy for them, really, but he can't help the nagging self-deprecating thoughts that spring up when he remembers his loneliness. He has friends, okay? Lisa might not be the one, but damn it if she hadn't seemed like it. In the beginning, everything was okay, until Dean realized mere months away from their three-year anniversary, with startling clarity, that he might be bisexual. The revelation was enough to drive Lisa away, though Dean was pretty confident in Lisa's lack of homophobia before he came out. He wasn't terribly surprised, at least. Maybe she was telling the truth when she claimed she's fallen out of love. That didn't stop it from hurting like hell, watching her place her key to _their apartment_ on the coffee table and leave, promising to return to collect her things. Dean didn't ask who'd she be staying with until she found a place, or if she already had something lined up. Those things were part of information Lisa wasn't offering. It was kind of pathetic, Dean thought, to wallow in despair after your girlfriend of nearly three years breaks up with you because she just—doesn't love you anymore. It wasn't like Dean tried to be what she said she wanted, that he loved her enough to change for her. Lisa wouldn't have that, though. Dean simply isn't what she wants, a '50s-esque hunk to come home to her. Nevermind that the pinnacle of a happy life for Dean Winchester doesn't involve a wife, kids, a large house with a white picket fence. At least, it did when he got dumped.

Dean frowned at his phone screen, at the open space where you'd normally type a post. Staring at the blank whiteness, Dean got an idea; a good idea it was most certainly not, but an idea Tweet read: _now accepting boyfriend applications_.

 _Let it stay_ , Dean thought. _It's not like anyone would actually_ _respond_. The whiskey in his system may have been all that held him together. To drink, for Dean, meant releasing the right grips on his impulses, especially the more idiotic ones.

Dean swore loudly into the quiet of the room when he got the notification that someone had, indeed, sent in a response. At two a.m., no less. Dean sighed, unlocking his cell phone.

Dean's green eyes gazed in abject horror at the screen. Of all Dean's 30-something followers, the first and only reply came from Castiel fuckin' Novak. His _gay best friend_. It was hard to ignore his chemistry with Cas, the affection they both felt. Maybe it was Dean's denial, or even Castiel's, but it had always felt like a friendly, platonic love. Not romantic. Dean met Cas in the last semester of their senior year; he transferred from some private fancy private school a couple states over. Dean had been shoving the still-warm coals of a late teens crush into his pockets since they graduated nearly fifteen years ago. Just when Dean thought he had it all figured out, his feelings for Cas in particular, Lisa Braeden asked him out. It was supposed to be a one-time thing to scratch an itch of sorts. _Wrong._ That one date turned into many and, soon enough, Lisa was moving into Dean's apartment. All the while, despite Dean's street smarts and repressed emotions, it had never occurred to him that Cas might have _feelings for him,_ not that jerk he hooked up with once or twice in a shitty, hole-in-the-wall gay bar two hours outside Bumfuck Nowhere, Kansas.

 _Oh well, what harm could it do?_ Dean thinks as he sends a text to Cas, not expecting a response.

Tough luck, the universe might have said to him if it could speak. Castiel responded within ten minutes, a series of achingly tender words and a list of reasons why he'd make the perfect boyfriend. Among them, Cas wrote a simple declaration of love. _Holy shit. Oh, my God. He loves me. Cas loves me._ Dean's brain short circuits. He hastily types out a text back, imploring his friend to come by his apartment when the sun was actually up, when Dean might be sober enough to use his brain.

Dean rolls over, feet touching the cold floor of his bedroom. Someone's knocking on the front door. Someone's knocking way too loud for… Whatever fucking time it is. Dean groans, pulling on the nearest pair of pants to him and a faded hoodie over his tee shirt. When he gets to the door, not bothering to check the peephole, Dean finds out it's none other than Cas behind the door. He also took the casual route, for he was dressed simply, jeans and a classic t-shirt/jacket combo.

"Hey, Cas." Dean says, opening the door wider to allow his friend room to step inside from the mid-October chill. He gets over the shock of Cas actually showing up pretty quickly; his friend often showed up early or right on time to whatever function he squeezed into.

"Hello, Dean." God, as if this couldn't get any worse already, Cas is weirdly formal in that way he never does unless he's feeling awkward, "So, uh. About that thing you mentioned in your last night, and my, uh, responses…" He trails off and pauses to sit down on Dean's couch, a respectful distance away. Dean's face flushes. He's honestly surprised that he hadn't dreamed the whole incident, from his Tweet to Cas' 2 a.m. love confession. That last part, though, Dean's glad it's real. Cas _loves_ him. It dawns on Dean that, yeah—he feels the same. Shame it took him multiple failed relationships and at least a decade to realize it.

"What?" Dean asks dumbly. He fumbles over his words after, trying and failing to come up with something else to say . Cas's deep blue eyes meet Dean's, gaze relaying his confusion and embarrassment. For a moment Dean forgets what's happening; those eyes could catch his from a mile away and Dean would still be as entranced as he is right now, a mere arm's length from Castiel.

"Boyfriend applications. Really, Dean?"

Dean goes full tomato red, very much not the soft pink of before, at that. He hangs his head for a moment to conceal it before he speaks, "I was hoping no one would see it and I'd delete the post. Until _you_ got involved. It was dumb. Shit, I'm sorry, man. But do you really want to do this? With _me_? Surely being friends for fifteen years is enough, right? Do you want to risk fucking up our friendship?"

It's quiet when Dean finishes speaking. Cas takes a moment to study Dean's face, the freckles below his beautiful green eyes and the relative smoothness of his complexion. Dean's cheeks are still faintly pink; the few moments between now and when his face went adorably red did nothing at all to mask how flustered he feels. Maybe Dean's had a crush on Cas the whole time they've known each other, since they met in high school and became inseparable since. Maybe being with Lisa helped him see that. He wasn't using her to sort out his struggles with his sexuality by any means. It just happened that being with her and getting his heart broken was what helped him see past the trauma that tormented his youth, all the denial of who he truly is. Sam's going to get a kick out of it when Dean finally tells him he's bisexual. They won't be as surprised to hear Cas was the one to make the first move, though. Dean didn't make a habit out of sweeping, romantic gestures; the few special dates he'd cooked up for Lisa ended up being the extent of Dean's romance skills. Rather pathetic, really, but he tries.

"I'd really like to _do this_ with you, Dean. If you'll have me. I've wanted you for _years._ " Cas' voice breaks up Dean's reverie, pulling him gently into the moment. Here, on the gray couch he didn't even want until Lisa bought it, in the apartment they'd shared until fairly recently. Cas sighs, waiting for Dean to come back to him. He shakes his head to clear his mind before he speaks. Cas smiles, a comforting sight in all the new-ness of their current situation.

"'Course I'll have you. Would have you anytime you asked. Can I kiss you?" Dean asks softly, moving to close the distance between himself and Castiel. They stand up to make touch easier, bring them closer. Dean's hands slide to Cas' waist, fingers grazing the expanse of flesh and fabric there, holding firmly. He's afraid of letting go, letting Cas slip through his fingers; Lisa wasn't the one, Dean realizes. He doesn't regret letting Lisa leave, he loved her enough to make peace with it. The end of their relationship brought him and Cas together, after all. It's easier to admit those things to himself than it would be to say them aloud.

" _Please_."

Dean's lips meet Cas' in a short, sweet kiss. A chorus of angels singing plays in Dean's brain, a fitting backdrop inside to his outside.

_So that's what kissing someone is supposed to feel like._ Dean had kissed Lisa plenty of times in two-and-a-half years, but her lips could never compare to Cas', the soft pressure and overall _rightness_ of it all filled a hole in Dean's heart he didn't know existed. Kissing Cas felt like taking a deep breath of cool spring air, like the first bite of a warm slice of apple pie a la mode.

It's Cas that pulls away after a few quick pecks, muttering a curse under his breath before speaking louder so Dean can hear, "That was worth the wait."

"Was it?" Dean asks, cupping Cas's cheek with both hands and pulling him in for another kiss. Cas smiles into the kiss this time, relishing in their shared happiness.

"Mmm, very much so."

"Stay?" Dean asks, voice a bare whisper once they've parted. He's still holding Castiel, who's looking at him like he was the one to hang every one of the burning stars, gone ever hopelessly for Dean Winchester.

"I thought you'd never ask." Cas twirls one of Dean's hoodie strings around a pointer finger lazily, flopping down on the couch, imploring his companion to join him.

When the afternoon hours come to pass, they haven't moved from the couch. Dean briefly considers waking Cas up, but he fell asleep two hours ago and it would be rude. Dean sighs, pulling himself up to a standing position as quietly as possible, crossing the apartment to go feed the dog, Miracle. He smiles to himself while filling her water bowl. Cas barely stirs, looking not at all uncomfortable in his weird napping position. He looks perfect, half-sitting, half-laying on the couch with his dark hair splayed on the cushion behind his head not unlike a halo.

 _Angel,_ Dean thinks, remembering what day it is, _my angel of Thursday._


End file.
